


Salty Kisses and Sandy Toes

by kirschteinkyojin



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Kiss, Fluff, Lance is a dork, Love Confessions, M/M, Reference to Weed, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 10:16:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7636318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirschteinkyojin/pseuds/kirschteinkyojin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Keith lost himself to Lance's words... the way his lips moved when he spoke and the way he carried himself. He was laying his heart out to Keith right there and then and it made the young man melt.<br/>As Lance spoke he just glowed, vibrant and captivating and in that moment Keith thought that Lance might even have been beautiful under that pool light.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Salty Kisses and Sandy Toes

**Author's Note:**

> My first Voltron/Klance fic- hope you enjoy!!

“What’s that phrase about breeding like bunnies?.” Keith found himself rolling his eyes at Pidge’s terrible excuse for zestful originality.

“Lance has already made that same joke about four times tonight.” The young man sighed into the contents of the glass in hand. Prosecco, he decided, was far too dazzling a drink for his liking.

And not only was the bubbling wine distasteful for Keith; due to his (admittedly ‘grandpa-esque’) livelihood; Corfu was insanely warm to be considered an ideal wedding location. But Allura had insisted on account of her beloved grandmother’s deep and impassioned roots towards the island, and Shiro was all-too love-struck with the idea of a romantic sunrise wedding to even consider disagreeing.

“Yeah but come on, don’t tell me you weren’t at least a little surprised to see Shiro’s Great Aunt fly all the way from Japan for the ceremony?”

Shiro’s family was extended, to use the term lightly. More so than his new wife’s and far more than Keith ever imagined his own to be. The Best Man had seemed to have come into both brief and extensive contact with more cousins, half-cousins and uncle’s wive’s best friends in the space of a single night than Keith guessed he must have possessed within his entire family combined.

“I had a conversation with her earlier while I was stealing the cool breeze from her hand-fan. Honestly, I think the lady would have rowed a fishing boat herself before missing all of this.” Keith had ended up in an almost half-hour long conversation with the elderly lady about how youth these days apparently know little or appreciate the difference between starter forks and dessert forks. Though Keith failed to understand her perturbed nature, she had spend the greater proportion of the evening using a pair of chop-sticks from inside her clutch purse.

  
The ceremony itself could have been a much smaller affair than the grand night-time reception, which stretched the expanse of The Hotel Demeter’s private beach and surrounding bar area.  
But it wasn’t. In fact that many of Shiro’s extended family had decided to attend, the service became somewhat a standing-room only event. Hot and excited bodies pilled inside the remote and condensed space of the little white chapel atop the hill; thrusting a great level of anxiety against the weighted shoulders of Keith, who became rendered panic-stricken throughout the ceremony with thoughts of,

‘I’ve got to speak in front of all of these people, I have to make them all laugh and cry and fall in love with Shiro and Allura all over again and I’ve got to please everyone’

Such nervous apprehension left Keith so manic that Hunk was forced to elbow the raven-haired young man straight in the gut mid-vows so that he wouldn’t forget to give Shiro the darn ring.

“That’s sweet I guess. Hey congratulations on the speech by the way. Not a dry eye in the house-or beach- well, whatever they say anyway.” Keith smiled around the glass. He would admit to himself, there was a certain fond glow that ruptured within his chest when his eyes caught hold of Shiro and Allura, fingers loosely intertwined, eyes glittering between the pair of them.

“Did you cry?” Keith grinned, taking another sip of the- ‘damn it, why am I even drinking this?’

“Nah I’m not really the ‘Speech Crier’ sort of dude.” Pidge spun on their heels, making a precise jab for one of the many decorative tiny desserts available on display across the wide expanse of buffet tables.

“I’m a failure as a Best Man.”

“I wouldn’t say that, you made Lance cry.” Keith practically choked on the tangy bubbles inside his mouth, essentially spitting the liquid back inside the glass before turning to face Pidge with a wide-eyed flush of shock.

“What?” Keith was in awe, nonsensical, drunken and downright disbelieving awe. How much drink had he had? It would make sense to have been hearing phantom expressions of lunacy, it was already 11pm and he’d had his fair share of shots on behalf of Shiro and Pidge’s brother, Matt.  
But that wasn’t a phantom noise. Keith had seen the words leave Pidge’s lips, he had heard them loud and clear. He made Lance- the Lance- cry?

“We’re talking about the same Lance here right? The Lance who puts Cheetos inside his peanut butter sandwiches? The Lance who _still_ eats peanut butter sandwiches?” Lance was a grade-A moron, there was no doubt in Keith’s mind about it. Sure he was still one of his best friends, but that didn’t stop him from proclaiming idiocy at any given chance, and it certainly didn’t stop him from getting himself and the rest of the gang into enough trouble that’d warrant the greatest of scoldings if their mother’s were ever to learn of their exploits.

“That’s the one,” Pidge appeared restless, bouncing their feet up and down against the curb where the pavement met the sand and only then did Keith notice his friend had made the undoubtably wise move to remove their shoes and roll up their dress khaki pants. “Though don’t go taking all the credit, Lance does seem a little off his face right now. I think the caterers put too much rum inside that gelato tower, or maybe it’s the heat, are you not feeling the heat?”

“I don’t really think it’s the Head Groomsman’s place to de-formalise the event. I’ll take off my suit jacket if Shiro does.” Keith’s eyes wandered across the expanse of the make-shift dance floor rolled out across the sand.

The Greek band were still playing in full-swing, something slower though the strum of the guitar though not in the least bit melancholy. It seemed to fit Shiro and Alura perfectly, the two blissfully remained intertwined in the centre of the dance floor, a position Keith didn’t think he’d seen them escape from since their first dance. Hunk was nearby, currently engulfed within the arms of a younger girl who Keith believed to be one of Alura’s baby cousins. Though despite the crowding presence across the beach, Shiro and Allura seemed to glow like homing beacons amongst the darkness. Like Keith, Shiro’s dress suit was of the lighter variety, a subtle grey to compliment the day’s glaring heat of the sun; and alongside Allura's trailing, open-backed lace masterpiece, the two of them radiated with a captivating elegance beneath the fairy-lights that stretched palm tree to palm tree. All together the setting appeared to Keith as if he and all the other guests were trapped within one of those bubbling glasses of glittery Prosecco that he hated so much.

“Suit yourself. You’re lucky that you’re naturally cold. Lance, he’s like an old Easy-Bake oven, all overheated and ready to go out to pasture.” A somewhat indescribable pang gnawed away within Keith’s chest at Pidge’s mention of Lance, or more specifically so, Lance’s body heat. How on earth did Pidge know how warm Lance was? It was a question that Keith struggled to shake from his mind both in terms of its answer and as to why it had even bothered to cross his mind in the first place. “Now, if you excuse me I am currently on a top secret mission to find my dear brother Mathew.”

“Dare I ask why?”

“Probably not. Though if you are thinking of waking up early tomorrow morning than I suggest you keep away from the punch bowl for the remainder of the evening. Later!” A classic prank, one neither of the Gunderson-Holt siblings believed themselves to be morally above. But they had a wonderful relationship, one Keith would only admit quietly to himself that he was far too jealous of.

If it could be measured with mere words alone, one might assume that Keith was perhaps a lonely type of person. Sure he had friends (though admittedly their numbers were far smaller and a whole lot more distant than the likes of Shiro), but something was missing that wasn’t a family and it didn’t exactly take someone with a Masters degree to pin-point exactly what that ‘something’ was.  
Keith was love-lonely, if that were ever a thing. Hunk had called him that once. In return Keith had called Hunk an idiot.  
Yet still he guessed it to be true. In fact the longest relationship Keith held had never stretched further than the dreaded six-month mark, and that was only because their long distance had become nothing but a tedious scrutiny.  
Yes, Keith was alone. And sort of sad. And rather a lot more than ‘sort of’ drunk on booze and disco lights and so all he really wanted to do was to get away from celebrating his friend’s love and left alone to mope about the fact that he had none.

  
Keith did that. Escaping the hustle and bustle of the festivities was a practically challenge-less feat, all eyes were on the bride and groom and none were on the Best Man which made slipping between the buffet tables and down the small walkway leading to the hotel pool virtually full-proof.  
It was empty, darker there. It was quiet. The music of the party faded away into a murmur echoing from the beach and the only obstruction harbouring Keith’s path became the scattered waste of sun loungers surrounding the pool.

In his march he stripped, impatient of his own preachings of remaining fully clothed. Off went his suit jacket, his bowtie, his vest, all tossed aside against a nearby lounger before he fell down against it himself, and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt though closed his eyes, breathing in the thickened sent of chlorine and sea air.

He wondered for a moment if guests would bear witness to his silent brooding from atop their balconies, perhaps even the hotel staff circling the grounds would marvel in his loneliness; not that anyone bothered to intrude.

“Yo.” Or perhaps there was one person.

Lance- like Pidge- appeared to have grown tired of the layer of sweat that followed wearing a full three-piece suit in 40 degree heat, though in Keith’s eyes the hideous pink button-up the man wore out his shorts was little better.

“Oh, hey.” Keith’s eyes opened some more, slowly becoming accustomed to Lance’s still lanky, almost adolescent-like frame hanging over him,and the bottle of beer being offered, “You drunk or something?”

“Meh, only as much as you.” Lance dropped down against the next sun lounger as Keith accepted the drink. The brunette’s eyes were unclouded and a even little eerily dormant.

“Thought you might have suffered the wrath of the Gunderson-Holt intoxication trap.”Keith snorted, sitting up, bringing the bottle of chilled liquid to his lips. It was better than the Prosecco at least.

“They spiked the punch bowl again? Pft, school children.” Lance giggled into his own bottle, a noise that brightened Keith’s spirit if only for a moment before he realised- _'Lance, Lance, this is Lance the pink shirt, peanut butter man-child.'_

“Don’t act like you weren’t ever the sort to try the same thing.”

“Fair.” Lance seemed to bring himself closer, his voice lowering and somewhat slurring, “So what are you doing here all by your lonesome? Champagne poppers and wedding cake not your idea of a good time?”

Of course Lance had come to mock Keith for being a no-show. The shorter man rolled his eyes and collapsed back down into his lounger. Perhaps ignoring Lance all together would make the pest loose interest so Keith could be alone.

“Aw come on, don’t be like that. It’s a party!” Lance’s words met Keith’s ears like fog horns, causing him to twitch and cringe with every syllable.

“Go away.” Keith gritted, refusing to crack open his eyes.

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

“Love me.”

“Love yourself you donkey.”

“What are you, twelve?” And then Lance’s tone changed and he reclined back into his chair, head resting in his arms and looking up to the practically starless sky. “It’s no good crying over spilt milk anyway, I thought you would’ve gathered that by now.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you can get over Shiro already. The guy is happy, I thought you were too with the way you gave that speech n’all.”

“Wh-“ like a whippet Keith snapped up, body twisting to face Lance, the man nonchalant and relaxed, “God you are a fool. Shiro, really? Pretty sure I’m past a silly one-semester High School crush at this point.”

“Alright alright!” Lance raised in mock defence, giving Keith time too cool his blazing temper before he started again, “Well anyway, I didn’t find itmmmf-“Lance’s voice trailed away with little coherence, his shoulders shrugging and his face twisting into corner of the chair, away from Keith’s prying eyes.

“Huh?”

“I said I didn’t think it was silly! Nothing wrong with having a crush…” Lance continued to mumble, a surprisingly humorous display to Keith, to watch the over-active young man fumble uselessly over his words.

“What would you know? You’ve had your eye on someone new every week since we were 16.”

Not that he was ever successful, Keith humoured himself. Lance was always something of a failed lover-boy in his younger years. Every fellow student Lance had his heart set upon from the treasurer of the girl’s literary society to the goalkeeper of the boy’s soccer team all let him down, usually in a rather brutal fashion as Keith so recalled.

“Not true! I liked you for ages until you opened your damn mouth. You’ve got an abundance of ‘asshole’ in you, you know that?” Lance growled, crossing his arms in a temper similar to Keith’s own.

If Shiro were close by, no doubt he would make double-haste in separating his constantly retorting underclassmen. ‘The perfect fatherly figure’ everyone would joke, fellow friends and old teachers alike. Though Keith wouldn’t admit to being a little bit apologetic that he and Lance could quiet possibly be the result of their friend’s undoubtably premature grey hairs.

“At least it’s not ‘jerk’! You don’t even- wait,” like a flush of cold air down his spine, Keith’s ears finally caught up to his brain, to his gaping mouth, “what did you say?”

“That you’re an asshole, Asshole.”

“No, before that…”

No mistake, Keith had heard. Or at least he thought he had.  
But, no, of course not. That was… lunacy! Surly he had misheard- surly- surly-

“What? Uh- huh, I don’t recall….” Lance fumbled, scratching the back of his head and flailing helplessly within the lounger in an attempt to stand.

“Yes you do, you said-“

“No no I have no memory!” Lance squeaked a little louder, clambering up despite Keith’s own swipes to keep him down. “All in you’re head I think… maybe you should get that checked out, like, now. I’ll be at the party with all the other sane people-”

“Come on, Lance-“ Keith jolted up from his seat to follow, making a more urgent grab for Lance’s arm, refusing to let his grip falter as he caught on-

Lips.

On Keith’s.

Lance’s.

  
Keith felt numbness.  
Not in his face. Not even in the way their lips connected. That in itself was a warm exploration. Somewhat damp, and bitter from the alcohol. A common feeling for both of the young men alike no doubt.  
Instead the numbness seemed to emulate from Keith’s legs. He didn’t believe for a moment he’d be able to move from his seat, even if he wanted to. Oh, and when Lance’s hand drew itself up, fingers glossing over Keith’s jaw before his hand was lost into the back of his black hair, Keith certainly did not want to move.

In the most basic of essences Keith’s legs had turned to jelly. It was a tried cliché at best, but as Lance’s mouth moved against his own and a little gasp of appreciation fell from the brunette’s mouth; jelly legs appeared to be the only concrete thought that would come to mind.  
Perhaps, Keith wondered, his legs had been rendered the same way the mountainous fruit gelato felt over by the buffet counter.  
It was a strange thing to think about as his friend was kissing him.

His friend was kissing him.

Lance was kissing him.

Keith was the one to shove himself away.

“S-sorry!” Was the first coherent word to leave Lance’s mouth, not that Keith was in a position to judge, his own expression no doubt as utterly baffled, his fingers slowly reaching up to his bottom lip. “I don’t know why I did that! Well- I do but- well I also wanted to shut you up!”

“You just kissed me?”

“No- yes- obviously! I mean… You kissed me too! Ahaha, this is nutsss-“ Lance rushed a hand through his hair, eyes wide and frantic- frantic, wide, red, red-

“Hang on, a minute are you- are you _high_?” Keith scoffed, moving onto Lance’s sun lounger and bringing his face down closer towards the other’s. His eyes were red-rimmed, chest heaving with an increased heart rate, actions panicked and clearly ill-considered. “Did you just kiss me because you’re high?!”

“Isn’t that kind of like an Arctic Monkey’s song?” Lance frowned cluelessly, and like a stack of cards Keith felt his patience tumble.  
In a fit of rage, Keith stood, practically causing Lance to fall from the chair in the process.

Could Keith not have some damn time to himself?  
Why did Lance always have to come and take over everything- his thoughts, his actions- it infuriated Keith to no end that even despite his angered temper he couldn’t seem to keep Lance away, even when he so very wanted to.

And now; now Lance had to go and do _that_.

“Hey hey Keith- wait!”

In a sudden flash of manic behaviour, Lance’s balance faltered, his loose dress shoes useless in their grip against the wet pool tiles,

“WAH!-“

Keith clung to Lance as if his very body was a life-preserver, and the two continued in their stammer forward until there was no where else to go and- splash- submersion.

They both gasped for air as they returned up to the pool surface.

“YOU- IDIOT!” Keith gasped between coughs, shaking the water from his face and struggling to find his footing against the pool floor.

“YOU’RE THE ONE WHO CLUNG TO ME LIKE SOME FUCKING KOALA!”

Now someone was definitely going to notice the two’s absence. More troublingly so, they would find Keith and Lance soaking wet in their clothes inside an otherwise desolate pool.

“OH SO I’M TO BLAME NOW?” Keith hissed violently, shoving Lance away (or perhaps even under the water itself).

“YOU’RE THE ONE WHO TRIED TO STROM OFF!” Lance struggled away, cutting his arm across the water and forcing Keith to draw his hands up in a failed effort to evade the incoming splash to his face.

“HEY,” Keith forced water back to Lance with a similar level of fury, “ I’M NOT THE ONE WHO’S OFF HIS FACE!”

“YOU NEVER LET ME FINISH!”

“BECAUSE YOU’RE HIGH!”

“ONLY A TINY BIT!”

“WELL THEN WHY’D YA KISS ME?” Keith halted his thrashing when Lance wasn’t so quick to respond. Delicately he lowered his arms back into the water, studying Lance’s features; his dipped head, his hunched shoulders, all for any signs of recognition, “HM?” Keith started again, growing impatient.

“BECAUSE-“ Lance yelled, slapping his hands down and thrusting his head up to look Keith in the eye, “BECAUSE I DIDN’T THINK I COULD DO IT WITH A CLEAR HEAD… To much, before-thought…”

Keith, if he could take responsibility for a sobered head on his shoulders, may have found something rather sugary and sweet within Lance’s confession.  
The young man was clearly embarrassed, his face flaming and eyes hastily trying to avoid Keith’s own.

But this was Lance. And Lance took solace in infuriating Keith at any given opportunity (or so he thought). Keith, in his flippant and drunken state, was not ready to acknowledge Lance’s years of pesky torment as child’s-play for, what, release of sexual frustration?

“Well congratulations Lance, now you get to leave me with all the after-thought.” Keith shook his head slowly, swimming his way towards the edge of the pool and pushing up, hanging his legs back over the side.

What was stopping him from leaving all together? Why didn’t he just go? What more was there possibly left to say that Lance hadn’t expressed through his tackless actions?

The brunette swallowed down his guilt, studying Keith’s defeated form before following suit, sitting beside his friend on the edge of the pool.

“I’m sorry.” It was broken and hoarse, practically a whisper, but Keith could sense the sincerity in Lance’s words.

“Pidge said that you were crying during my speech.” Keith replied plainly, his eyes unwavering from the slow movements of the illuminated water engulfing his legs.

“Doofus…” Keith couldn’t help but crack the faintest smile, a huff of agreement escaping his nose before he licked his lips and tried again,

“Why were you crying?”

  
Lance stayed quiet for a long time. Too long, Keith thought. The air sat thick between the two of them, only made more prominent with the heat.

On occasion the brunette would open his mouth, only to snap it closed again with a dejected sigh. He was struggling with his words, Keith understood, and remained as patient as he could muster, despite his toes and fingers curling with nerves.

“It was-“ Lance breathed, hard, there was a certain shudder to his tone, one that only made Keith’s own hairs stand on end in apprehension, “uh- that story you told… you know, the time me, you and Shiro took that ride up to Salt Lake City, when the car broke down.”

Keith remembered it well. It was one of his favourite stories to tell. It never failed to make everyone laugh, Shiro and Allura included; a warm and heartfelt sense of accomplishment was what Keith felt as he had swallowed his anxieties and addressed the guests only earlier that very evening.

“We were stuck on the freeway for hours. “ Keith grinned in remembrance. It was so warm, and their air conditioning had packed-in, their cellphones virtually bar-less, leaving them, “All alone with that one-“

“Buddy Holly album stuck in the stereo, ha-“ Lance completed, watching his own legs sway within the tranquillity of the luminous water below.

“Why’d that make you cry?” It was a a fond memory, Keith understood. Sure it was a little difficult at the time, but even so it was something they would all recall with the upmost of appreciation.

It shouldn’t, why, why would it make Lance cry?

“You remember how you spent the whole ride next to Shiro in the passenger’s seat?”

“You insisted on hogging that back to yourself so you could stretch.”

“Yeah, um…” In a sudden halt Lance’s words slowed. He swallowed again, dry, pursing his lips together before regaining control, “well, when I said that my feelings for you fizzled out when we became friends, that… well I guess that may have been a little bit of an overstatement.”

Keith wasn’t able to register the complexity of Lance’s words, not before the other continued, leaving Keith dumbfounded and head snapping up to meet Lance’s eyes. They shone between the darkness of the canopy of black sky surrounding the two of them. Lance’s eyes- his eyes- Keith could have lost himself inside of them, dived in deep as if the cool and blissful sensuality of the pool itself would be found within.

“You and Shiro, you uh, you looked so happy sat together talking, laughing… I know you said you didn’t have a thing for him but well, I dunno I guess I just still felt like a spare part, ya know?”

No, Keith didn’t know, in fact he was utterly dumbstruck. Lance was, jealous, of Shiro? Of Shiro and Keith?  
But why?  
All Lance had done for years was tease Keith and gawk lustfully at other people and just- be Lance.  
Keith struggled to comprehend it, to comprehend Lance, that all of it; all the jokes and the teasing and generally irksomely lodging into Keith’s side and refusal to break away- that it was all for him?

“When you gave that speech... I just kept thinking about the look on your face you had when you were with Shiro. Your eyes were _so_ bright. I didn’t really care to understand if it was fondness or something more.”

Keith lost himself to Lance’s words,, the way his lips moved when he spoke and the way he carried himself. He was laying his heart out to Keith right there and then and it made the young man melt.  
As Lance spoke he just glowed, vibrant and captivating and in that moment Keith thought that Lance might even have been beautiful under that pool light.

“I just knew that the way you were looking at him… it was like there was no one else in the world you’d rather be talking to. I’d have given anything for you to have looked at me like that.”

“Lance…” Words were rendered null and void, and Keith struggled helplessly to find some sort of tangible response.

“No, it’s fine, right? We’re adults now.” Lance stopped Keith in his tracks, snapping his head away and back towards the water, obvious in his attempts of fleeing from the fearful result of his  _'stupid, stupid'_ confession.

Keith didn’t know what to say. How could he ever respond audibly to such a declaration? Not with words alone, clearly.

Keith was shocked.  
Clueless.  
Perhaps even a little bit pained.

Though overall, the one thing Keith knew to be true for sure, the one thing that he could feel deep within the pit of his chest; the force of a heavy burden again his heart, something brutal, unwavering, and so very similar to the way he had felt to have Lance cling to his side for years on end.

And perhaps most terrifying for Keith was the understanding that he didn’t need the ache in his heart to cease.  
He just wanted to feel it all the more.

He leaned across to kiss Lance at the cheek.

“Come on dude,” Lance laughed, actually laughed, a pink tint to his cheeks which stretched all the way to his ears that he tried bashfully to cover, “you don’t need to give me a pity kiss.”

It was charming, Keith saw it that way. But despite that he could also see the pain it was causing Lance.  
Even now the brunette was still so unsure. He fiddled anxiously with his fingers, refusing to look Keith in the eye.

Oh, but Keith wasn’t about to let that happen.

“It wasn’t pity.” Keith’s words were a gasp- of realisation, of joy, excitement in fact- and he couldn’t control himself any longer.

He let his fingers trace up towards Lance’s jaw, tilting brunette’s head to face him, eyes searching for permission before they fluttered closed and he kissed him.

Keith swallowed it all; the small yelp of surprise that radiated from the back of Lance’s throat, the soft sighs that followed.

It was a rather sudden discovery that Keith liked the way it felt to have Lance’s fingers tangle into his hair, cupping the back of his head, only bringing the smaller man in closer.  
Chest to chest, and Lance’s tongue brushing across Keith’s bottom lip before he was inside, exploring every new and exiting depth of the ecstasy that was Keith’s mouth, loosing himself in a way Lance had only dreamt of for years.

Keith couldn’t help himself but give in to the ache that particular thought forced against his heart. Both his hands found themselves either side of Lance’s face, tracing gently at the warm and flushed skin.

The two of them fell back, Keith’s head resting against the floor at the pool’s very edge. He could sense the cold overflow of water through his hair, flaying it out in long black strands against the tiles. Still his refused to let his lips leave Lance’s even for a moment.

It didn’t matter how long he had waited, they were there now.

Nor did it matter how many people back at the wedding party would be beginning to recognise their absence.

Not then, not when they were together in that moment. Keith was determined to stay by Lance’s side this time and every time after that.

For better or for worse.

 


End file.
